Like Father, Like Son
by okeydokeyworld
Summary: Vincent and Ciel are alike in many ways. But there are a few things in particular that they have in common. Such as: Misunderstood dialogue between them and their loyal servant. Ciel wasn't the only one forced into awkward situations and for the sake of the Queen's missions. What do you think Vincent did all the time? OR: The original corset scene.


AN/ I had this lying around in Word for the longest, and since the grammar wasn't too atrocious, I posted it. I don't what I was thinking.

 **Please: Don't start reading this story until you have read my little essay down below, the story will make more sense after reading it.**

Anyway, this is inspired by a post I seen...somewhere...where is not important right now. But after reading this post, I went back and reviewed a couple things.

In the curry competition episode of the BB/Ksj anime, the Viscount Druitt is waxing poetical about flavor and spice, and blue lobsters, and such, and comparing various tastes and ingredients to beautiful women, and it shows a picture of a dark-haired lovely in a blue dress, her face is turned away, we don't see her front, not even much of her profile, but we do see arms, and her bangs, and her tightly bound hairstyle.

She has a French twist in her hair, and those only work with short hair, not long, it's impossible to do a French twist with long hair. And her bangs, short, covering her eyes. And you know who has bangs like that? Vincent.

And you know why Ciel had to get all pretty in pink, right? For the Queen's case, he had to do it. And, sooooo, Vincent, being the previous little puppy of the Queen, certainly encountered an order from _Her Majesty_ which required him to squeeze into stays and strut around a ballroom.

My conclusion? Crossdressing runs in the freakin' Phantomhive family.

 **Now: start reading.**

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Vincent groaned, and slammed his open palms against the wall before him, using the wooden panels to hold himself upright. Diederich moved behind him, running his hands along the Earl's sides.

"Stay still." Diederich commanded, "It hurts!" Vincent protested, his hands curling into fists, knuckles pressing into the polished oak wall.

"It wouldn't hurt so much if you would stop moving!" Diederich retorted. "I told you it wouldn't fit!" Vincent spat back at the German man.

"It fits perfectly!" Diederich snapped. "It gets better," Diederich coaxed in a softer tone. "You won't even notice it's there."

Vincent let his forehead rest on the space of wall between his hands, his breath escaping in shallow huffs. "Just finish up." he ordered.

Diederich complied, his grunts of concentration mixing with Vincent's heavy pants. "Almost there." Diederich whispered heavily, Vincent let his right forearm drop down onto the wall, his left hand shooting up to cover his mouth, muffling a moan as Diederich's fingers tugged and pulled below his waist.

Vincent arched his back suddenly, a cry escaping his mouth, as the corset cinched painfully around his torso. Giving the corset strings one final tug, Diederich knotted them neatly at the base of the corset.

Vincent pushed away from the wall, sliding his hands over the whalebone cage encircling his chest. "I can't breathe." He gasped.

"You'll get used to it." Diederich assured him. "This is the latest fashion in London."

"Well, women in London must have learned not to breathe." growled Vincent. "It will only be for a few hours," Diederich said, reaching over to pull a garment off the bed next to him. "Now put on your petticoat."

"Get away from me." Vincent snapped.

A French noble had traveled to England from Paris, that in itself was nothing new, but the French aristocrat was quite mysterious, and had raised the Queen's suspicions.

The Frenchman was also something of a pervert, so naturally the Viscount Druitt had invited him to one of the season's parties. And after Vincent's last falling-out with Druitt, it would be unreasonable for Vincent to attend the ball to gather information.

However, the Queen had issued an order, and Vincent had no choice but to attend the ball in disguise.

And it was quite a disguise. Unfortunately, the disguise included a corset, heels, and a proper ballgown.

Rachel herself could not attend the ball to glean the required information, partly because she was well known as the wife of the Earl of Phantomhive, and because Ciel was ill in bed.

So, it was Vincent's unpleasant duty to strap himself into all manner of female paraphernalia and attend the party.

Angelina had been the one to suggest that he dress in drag for the ball, and everyone else had readily agreed. And so began a tedious week of tutoring from various members of his household.

Lessons in dancing, lessons in talking, lessons in walking, lessons in gestures and voice tones...and then the dress-fitting. And the footwear.

They had to bribe at least half a dozen seamstresses, and twice as many cobblers. And it all culminated with Diederich tying him into that dreadful corset.

Vincent snatched the petticoat from Diederich, and wrestled it on. When all the buttons and ribbons adorning the petticoat had been fastened properly, Vincent attempted to don a pair of black silk stockings without tearing them.

"How do these go on!" Vincent snarled, watching another rent form in one of the stockings as he tried to tug it past his knee.

Diederich gave a light chuckle, and moved to lean against the bed where Vincent was seated, and reached down, pulling the stockings to the tops of Vincent's hips in one move.

Vincent murmured a sullen 'thanks.'

Diederich quickly and slyly let his hands drop further, fingertips brushing the insides of Vincent's thighs through the stockings. Vincent threw his petticoats down over his legs as soon as he felt the feathery touch, causing Diederich to swiftly retract his hands.

"Don't." he warned, glaring at Diederich through narrowed eyes. Diederich gave a raspy chuckle, and backed away.

Just in time.

The bedroom door creaked open, and Rachel slipped into the room. Waves of blue and white fabric were folded and slung over her arms. The fabric, when unfolded, revealed itself to be an exquisitely tailored dress, embellished with lace and ruffles. "Here you are." Rachel said, holding out the dress. "It was barley finished in time."

Vincent regarded the dress with high distaste, and gave no indication that he intended to don it.

"We should think of something else." Vincent began. "Maybe if..." _"Vincent."_ Rachel said, the barest hint of exasperation coloring her voice.

"Come now." Diederich cooed, "You aren't going to back out now. Not in front of your wife." "Why?" Vincent questioned.

"She wears this frippery on a daily basis, if she can do it, so can you." Diederich reasoned. Vincent threw a smoldering look at Diederich, and stood up. And promptly tripped over the hem of his petticoat.

Rachel smothered a laugh. Vincent applied a look of injured dignity to his features, and continued to do so, as she directed him into the confines of the dress, poked and prodded the cloths bunched in the front of his dress into a respectable shape, arranged his hair, and pinned a blue, rose-bedecked hat atop it all.

A soft knock sounded at the door, and Tanaka stepped in. "The carriage has arrived," announced Tanaka. 

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**Any ideas for the next chapter? Anything you want to see?**


End file.
